Can One Change, Change It All?
by VanillaAshes
Summary: AU! After the Dursley's move to America before Harry turns eleven, he his accepted into Ilvernorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! QLFC.


**Hello! This Oneshot is for the Round Two of Season Five of the Quidditch League Competition (QLFC).**

 **Team: Wigtown Wanderers.**

 **Position: Chaser 3.**

 **Theme: [Location] Ilvermorny.**

 **Prompts: 9. (word) Past; 13. (dialogue) "What a thing to say!"; 15. (quote) 'Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because I'm beautiful, smart and rich.' — Calvin Keegan.**

 **Title: Can One Change, Change It All?**

 **Summary: AU! After the Dursley's move to America before Harry turns eleven, he his accepted into Ilvernorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! QLFC.**

 **Word Count: 2352**

 **Beta(s): Aelys Althea; DinoDina; The Dreaming Hare; RawMateriel.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Harry Potter had never questioned why his Aunt and Uncle had elected to move them from England to the States when he was nine. It wasn't like he had any say in it. He couldn't help but prefer America for one reason; he was no longer in a small room under the stairs, but a bigger one next to the front door. A broom closet, as he later found out. He couldn't think why people would have brooms near the front door, but that wasn't for him to question.

He still didn't have nearly the same amount of room as Dudley did in one of his two rooms, but he could stand up without banging his head. He wasn't disturbed by his cousin jumping down the stairs anymore, either.

All was as well as he could expect from the Dursley's for a time. That was until he saw a letter addressed to him a few years later, mixed with the letters for his aunt and uncle. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it as he gingerly walked to the kitchen.

He'd read the first few lines when his cousin spoke up.

"Look! Harry's got a letter!" Dudley cried out.

His uncle's plump hand reached and swooped his letter, screwing up the edges with his carelessness.

"That's mine!" Harry exclaimed, he wasn't used to getting post.

"Who would be writing to you?" Vernon read the open letter with a look of disgust, confusion and anger on his face. "Another one," he spat to his wife.

Harry looked at them in confusion. Another one? Had he received scholarships to schools before? He only had one chance to convince them, if they even deigned to listen to him. "Can I go? I won't be better than Dudley."

"Shut it! Go back to your room!" his uncle growled. His aunt looked… Afraid.

* * *

Harry and Dudley had been attending different schools since their arrival in the US. Harry didn't deserve to go to the same standard of school - or at least, that's what his Aunt and Uncle had told him. So when a woman arrived at the house not long after the letter to talk to Harry about a special school, he was left in awe. She was dressed simply in a shirt and slacks, but she looked positively rustic next to his immaculate horse-faced aunt.

Her name was Professor Acanthoclada, and she'd come to take him shopping for school supplies. She left little room for argument, and when the Dursleys protested she'd taken a thin piece of wood from her pocket which seemed to render his aunt and uncle speechless.

She explained that she was magic like Harry's parents had been, like him.

She passed him the wand, and he felt a bolt of _something_ run up his arm as it touched his skin.

"What was that?" He asked, dropping it and wincing. "I'm sorry!"

"It was magic." She lifted it up from the bleached carpet, smiling. "Why don't we get you one of your own?"

He knew then that his life was about to change dramatically.

* * *

The tingling in his fingertips was still with him when he arrived at the school, and the sensation grew into utter excitement and anticipation. The castle looked huge to him. The way the remaining light shone on it was fascinating. He was half expecting to bypass the castle to a small building. He was still skeptical that he was smart enough to attend such a school; he wasn't even sure he truly believed in being a wizard, but he found no fault in it yet.

"Hi," a girl from beside him greeted. "Are you as excited as I am?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

She looked at him. "What's your accent?"

He had been asked this question a lot since moving to America. "I'm originally from England."

"That's so cool! Was it a difficult choice to come here then? My parents nearly sent me to Durmstrang, because Ilvermorny was half-founded by a No-Maj, but I'm glad I'm here!"

"This was the only choice," he replied with mild confusion, he felt as though she had started speaking a different language. "What's a No-Maj?"

The girl laughed, shaking her head. "What a thing to say! A No-Maj is a non-magical person," she explained before realisation came across her face. "Oh, are your parents No-Maj?"

Harry started to answer yes before remembering what the professor had told him. The details were limited, but the offer was open for him to find out more about his past. "No, they were magical… but, I live with my aunt and uncle and they're No-Maj."

"Okay," she replied, and she stayed by his side as they neared the entrance.

Harry paid extra attention to the two marble statues, one on either side of the entrance. He knew they had some significance, but he couldn't remember what. With each step he took further into the castle, his incredulity grew. It was honestly the most incredible place he had ever seen. The ceilings were high, the walls made from large rocks, and the whole atmosphere was friendly. Harry couldn't have even dreamt up a place this amazing. Maybe that was what made it so magical?

He slowed to a spot in the large corridor alongside his fellow first years, seeing loads of older students standing on the level above them on a circular balcony in silent watchfulness. It made him feel small, but not as small as he felt at home. "Why are they standing there?"

The girl at his side looked at him a small smile on her face. He wasn't sure if she liked answering all of the questions or not, but she did so without complaint. "For our sorting."

Looking around himself once more, wondering what the sorting was, Harry kept the rest of his questions to himself. He didn't want to appear completely clueless, particularly since this girl was acting like she owned the place. "I'm Harry."

"Hello, Harry," she replied, a lot brighter than she had been a moment ago. "I'm Gretchen Jomanhall."

Before he could respond further, they were interrupted by one of the professors that shortly revealed himself to be the headmaster of the school.

"Welcome to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am your Headmaster, Professor Scarberry. This school was founded in the early 1600s and has grown ever since. Starting with only two students, the intimate and personal teaching still remains a crucial part of our educations," he began, setting his gaze on the new students.

"You will all be sorted into your house, each named by one of the original students and their professors at the time: Thunderbird, for those with intelligence and a fiery spirit; Wampus, for those who are fiercely loyal and not afraid to argue their opinion; The Horned Serpent, for the independent and brave; and Pukwudgie, for creative student. All houses are named after magical creatures the unique nature of which you'll soon learn."

Stepping past them, he stood in the middle of the floor. "One by one, you will step into the center of the room on the symbol of the Gordian Knot in front of the carvings, and they will choose you," he indicated to where he was standing before continuing. "If two houses want you for any reason you will be able to choose the one you prefer."

As the Headmaster finished his introductory speech, a line of chatter broke out, including from Gretchen who looked at him. "Which house do you want?"

Harry didn't know much about the houses. He just hoped one wanted him. "I'm not sure. You?"

"Thunderbird," she replied. "My parents were in that house."

The house seemed fitting for her, even though Harry had only met her that day. "Good luck."

"You too."

Watching as each new student got sorted, Harry wondered why he didn't go to the same school as his parents. He didn't know much about them or the school, but he knew it was in the UK. Maybe one day he'd find out more about where he came from and his dad's side of the family? At least he had the chance to find out more without having to rely on his aunt and uncle who had lied to him for so long. Before he knew it, his name was called and he stepped forward.

He couldn't help but be distracted by the whispers around him. With a feeling of dread, he realised they were talking about him.

"I heard he ended that war," an older girl told her friend in a staged whisper on the balcony above.

"He's the one who survived," the voice came from the group of students he'd come in with, and he fought the urge to whirl around.

"Where has he been?" Someone asked, and he thought it might've been a member of staff. They all seemed to know more about him than he knew about himself.

"Congratulations, you're a Horned Serpent!" the Professor said, gaining his attention.

Harry looked forward and saw the crystal on the Horned Serpent carving was shining red, indicating that he really had gotten into that house. A genuine smile made it's way to his face, his fears forgotten. Somebody wanted him.

His expression dimmed when the moment passed, and he remembered that Gretchen had already been sorted into a different house. He hoped he hadn't already lost his one new friend.

* * *

Harry flourished at Ilvermorny. He enjoyed the friendly atmosphere, not having to clean up after the Dursleys, and being encouraged to learn. On top of that, he made friends. He even sat with Gretchen in some classes, and even though she could be a bit of a loudmouth she always managed to stop the other students whispering about him.

He never thought that he could be so happy.

Even though the offer had been extended to find out more about his past from Professor Maddox, he was advised to wait until later in the year. Harry had learnt young not to ask too many questions. Curiosity had never served him well at home, so he hid it well. He didn't go against the advice to wait to ask the professor, but he spent hours in the library searching for answers. Unfortunately, he wasn't the best at searching; for the first few months, he didn't even know where to start.

That was until he came across one of the older students.

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because I'm beautiful, smart, and rich," was the first thing he ever heard her say. The first time she spoke to him directly she'd said: "Oh, hey! You're that little famous boy, aren't you?"

"No, I'm just Harry," he replied, automatically presuming she had gotten him mixed up with someone else.

The older girl laughed. "Don't be coy with me! You're Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and survived the killing curse. Pretty badass."

Harry was left in utter confusion. Even though he had been asked to wait until later in the year, enough was enough. He made his way to Professor Maddox's office in February.

* * *

"Harry, you have a very tricky past, and we don't want you to feel frightened or saddened over what occurred," Professor Maddox started, setting down a glass of water in front of Harry. "I have a feeling that your aunt and uncle moved you to America so you wouldn't have to deal with the pressures of what happened."

Harry doubted that.

"What _did_ happen?" Harry asked. Was it really so bad that his aunt and uncle moved him across the world? Had that move been for him all along?

Professor Maddox took his time to take a long sip of his water. "There was a Wizarding war in England, one that had spread to other parts of the world too. A bad man called… Voldemort had taken to murdering innocents and gained followers who shared his beliefs." He paused for a moment before continuing. "It would be best if you did not freely use his name, though," he advised.

Harry nodded, offering a silent promise.

Satisfied, the professor continued. "When you were a baby, he came to your house and murdered your parents and tried to murder you. However, the evidence shows that the curse he used on you backfired and killed him instead."

"Wait… N-no… That's impossible. My parents died in a car crash," Harry said quickly, louder than he probably should have. They had the wrong Harry. "That's what…" He stopped as the professor put a hand on his shoulder.

"There are still followers alive who may wish to harm you."

That stopped Harry's thoughts instantly. "Harm me? Because… because the spell backfired?" Most of it didn't make sense to Harry. How could he kill someone? Especially as a baby. However, he trusted Professor Maddox and had no reason to doubt him. Even though he should have probably been more interested about the bad people who may wish to harm him, there was one question on his mind. "Did you know my parents when they went to school here?"

His professor offered him a soft and patient smile. "No. Your parents didn't go to school here but to a different Wizarding school. They attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which is in the UK."

After another hour of conversation, it was time for Harry to return to his dorm for the night. However, with everything on his mind, he couldn't sleep.

Nearly everything he'd known, was slowly becoming untrue. His parents didn't die in a car accident, they were murdered. He was a wizard. He took out a very evil man and was still being threatened by that man's followers. His aunt and uncle moved to America because of him, which was probably the nicest thing they'd ever done for him.

Most importantly he had answers and knew where to look to find more. There must be somebody at Hogwarts who knew his parents. He vowed that one day he would go to Hogwarts and find out more about them and where he came from.

* * *

 **Thank you very much for reading!**


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